Movement(s)

There have been some movement(s) in the Phillips’ house in the past week.

Primarily, we had some progression in our home study.  We had our home visit last week.  This week we have three more interviews.  Tomorrow, I get to “dig deep” into the traumas of my formative years.  Sloan “digs deep” Friday morning, and then we get to discuss our marriage in depth Friday noon.

So that should be fun.  

Pray for me.  I understand the whys as to why our case worker wants to discuss it, but I’m so over it that I'm afraid I’ll be blasé about it.  Or that I’ll spend two hours bubble snot crying.  I sent our case worker several blog posts (like this one and this one) that I’ve written about the issue in hopes to head her off at the pass, so to speak. 

Secondly, we’ve had some progression in the potty training of Gracie.  We decided to sort of half-heart it for now until Spring Break so that I’m not constantly washing the car seat.  We want to just put her in panties and not look back.  But Gracie did not get this memo.

It was the afternoon before our home visit.  I has spent the day furiously straightening, dusting, mopping, and vacuuming—regretting not getting our cleaning lady to come on her off week.   

I was walking in the living room when…squish.  I had stepped in a heaping pile of warm poo.  In my house.  You know, in my pet free house.  Then there was a brown blur running the lap that is our kitchen, living and dining rooms chanting, “Stinky poopy!  I naked and I stinky poopy!  POOPY!”

I was dumbfounded.  I didn’t really know what to do.  I was not prepared to deal with human excrement on my living room hardwoods and then pittered pattered poopy footprints across my sisal rug.  Also, let it also be known that my FitFlops are heretofore labeled my “$h!tFlops”.  Had they not been black patent leather and the only flops I can wear with my plantar fasciitis, they would’ve heretofore been called trash.

The next day, about 5 minutes after our case worker left our house, Gracie pooped on the kitchen floor. 

Awesome. 

Dear Jesus, Thank you for the movement in our adoption of Charlie.  As to the movements with Gracie, that’s not really the kinda movement we need right now. Or ever, really. Amen.

Team Peeta

I wrote a longer post this morning while I was getting my car inspected, but for now, I simply want to declare unequivocally that I am on Team Peeta.  And to be clear, I'm not even sure how anyone else could be on Team Gale. 

If you don't know what I'm talking about, just carry on and maybe pick up a copy of The Hunger Games trilogy.  You'll finish it in less than a week because you will shirk all other responsibilities to finish it. 

To be sure, both Gale and Peeta love Katniss.  But Gale's love is self-serving, while Peeta's love is selfless.  Gale is a hard man.  Peeta is light and lovely and, for the love of Peeta, the boy bakes cheesy bread!  I couldn't stand Gale.  And I hated Katniss when she was with him.  His love for her hardened her, made her selfish.  While Peeta's love softened her.  But in a way that allowed her still to be strong and vibrant.  And if you find a man whose love allows you vulnerability and vitality, well, he's a rare keeper.  And again, let's not forget the cheesy bread!!

Oh, there's also the fact that I've had a pretty big crush on Josh Hutcherson since 2005's Little Manhattan.  It could be because of this...

Sloan Phillips in his youth...

And a young Josh Hutcherson...

And so now the cast to the Lifetime Network movie of my life is complete.

I'm Not a Circus Performer, People

Lately I’ve felt like a tight rope walker.  

Teetering as I struggle to maintain a work-life balance. I understand that everyone struggles with this.  I watch Sloan struggle to make sure he works to support his family rather than have his family support his work.  I listen to friends who work outside the home struggle to make sure their children know they are important, maintain sanity, and run a household, all the while making sure they keep their bosses happy.  So you’d think someone who is a stay at home mom would have no trouble here.  But the struggle is, well, my work IS my life.  I can’t choose between my family and my work because they are interrelated.   I can’t just kick back and relax because there are loads of laundry to be folded, shopping lists to complete, forms to be copied in triplicate for the dossier, bills to be paid, frames to be painted, friends who need meals made for them, and with the nice weather we’ve been having, parks to visit, and sprinklers to run through, which of course, only increases the amount of laundry that will inevitably be folded.  Whoever started that whole sitting on the couch and eating bon-bons rumor needs to be shot. 

I repeat—there are no bon-bons.

Add to this that we are entering the seventh level of toddler hell, aka potty training, and I want to cry.

Add to THAT that we are stuck in Home Study Limbo and I am crying.  I can’t really talk about how mad and sad and frustrated we are with our current adoption situation without sinning.  

Moreover, I am falling off the tight rope as I attempt to have a good balance of serving others and being insular in my family’s life.  I want us to be others’ focused, but in doing so, I’ve dropped the ball entirely on serving my kids.  

And my mind is jumbled.  I think my constant multi-tasking between cooking and cleaning and email and home study and preschool and having to get all new siding on my house and consignment sales and trunk shows and Plum Panda business and my daughter’s obsession with stripping naked and washing her hands in the toilet has completely left me incapable of just doing one thing to completion. I'm so focused on all the balls I have up in the air that I'm completely running into the folks living with me.  And let's not talk about how I've completely failed at giving up soda for lent. 

#lentfail

So I’ve been attempting to reboot my brain because it just-won’t-stop-thinking or processing information in manic fashion.  The other night I was tossing and turning because I was fearful that in training Ugandan soldiers to stop Kony (a necessary thing) we were just arming a Ugandan government that is equally guilty of crimes against humanity and it just seemed an awful lot like arming the Taliban to defeat the Russians.  Seriously.  This is the kind of crazy I am dealing with.   

So I’m stepping off the rope.  I'm letting the balls fall.*

  

Everyone tells you that when you bring your adopted child home you need to circle the wagons and just be a family.  To drop out of all your activities and just focus on loving one another for about a year.  Oh, how I long for that year!  

  

So I’m circling early.  Because in the end, the WHAT I’m doing in my service is of little importance if I’m confused about the WHO.  When I am patient with my daughter as she hides under my pillow and BREAKS ALL OF MY MAKEUP all over my bedspread while I pack to go out of town, I am serving Jesus.  When I take the time to fix bacon and eggs for a little boy who loves them so much rather than just serving up a bowl of Cheerios so I can work on more Plum Panda stuff, I am cooking for Jesus.  When I put down my Ipad and my paintbrushes and snuggle up with Sloan on the couch to watch New Girl, I am sharing the love of Jesus.  

When I cease the striving, I can trust.  And receive much grace.  And I’m reminded, it is not the type of service but the One being served who matters.  And I am not the Savior of the world or my family.  Hallelujah! 

So if you hear crickets around here for awhile, it’s because I refuse to tightrope or juggle anymore. 

*That's what she said.

Trying to find comfort in a rod and a staff...

It has been a hard week.  

Gracie is going through some things and it seems people keep wanting to give me advice on how to “handle” her.  But you see, a) you handle problems, not people, and b) last time I checked, none of the people giving me advice have ever parented an adopted child of another race who was born addicted to cocaine, heroin, and meth.  And so we pray that this is just the terrible twos and not our daughter’s abstinence syndrome finally rearing its ugly head.  Sometimes I forget that I am already a special needs Mom.

But God understood that for me to better love my daughter I needed some perspective.  In His tender mercy, instead of wallowing in frustration with my erratic toddler, I have been catapulted into grief.  Swallowed whole by the loss of a dear loved one in my extended family.  And the loss of a dear friend’s son who was also friend to my sister’s family..  All in the same day.

And I know that I do not grieve without hope.  That the glory of Easter morning has robbed death of its lasting power.  This is fact.  And yet, I am living in the midst of the “not yet.”  I am reminded that this world is not my home.  I am just a weary, weary sojourner. 


I am ever grateful for Lent.  For a time when I am already cognizant that it is for these very things that Jesus came.  But oh, how I long for Easter!  How I long for the day when I can see His face clearly, when his fingers will wipe my eyes, and there will be no more death or dying or cancer or widows or orphans or kids born with diseases or syndromes or mourning. 

For now, I pray and sing that the ancient words of Bernard of Clairvaux will be wholly mine:

O sacred Head, now wounded, with grief and shame weighed down,
Now scornfully surrounded with thorns, Thine only crown;
O sacred Head, what glory, what bliss till now was Thine!
Yet, though despised and gory, I joy to call Thee mine.

What Thou, my Lord, hast suffered, was all for sinners’ gain;
Mine, mine was the transgression, but Thine the deadly pain.
Lo, here I fall, my Savior! ’Tis I deserve Thy place;
Look on me with Thy favor, vouchsafe to me Thy grace.

Men mock and taunt and jeer Thee, Thou noble countenance,
Though mighty worlds shall fear Thee and flee before Thy glance.
How art thou pale with anguish, with sore abuse and scorn!
How doth Thy visage languish that once was bright as morn!

Now from Thy cheeks has vanished their color once so fair;
From Thy red lips is banished the splendor that was there.
Grim death, with cruel rigor, hath robbed Thee of Thy life;
Thus Thou hast lost Thy vigor, Thy strength in this sad strife.

My burden in Thy Passion, Lord, Thou hast borne for me,
For it was my transgression which brought this woe on Thee.
I cast me down before Thee, wrath were my rightful lot;
Have mercy, I implore Thee; Redeemer, spurn me not!

What language shall I borrow to thank Thee, dearest friend,
For this Thy dying sorrow, Thy pity without end?
O make me Thine forever, and should I fainting be,
Lord, let me never, never outlive my love to Thee.

My Shepherd, now receive me; my Guardian, own me Thine.
Great blessings Thou didst give me, O source of gifts divine.
Thy lips have often fed me with words of truth and love;
Thy Spirit oft hath led me to heavenly joys above.

Here I will stand beside Thee, from Thee I will not part;
O Savior, do not chide me! When breaks Thy loving heart,
When soul and body languish in death’s cold, cruel grasp,
Then, in Thy deepest anguish, Thee in mine arms I’ll clasp.

The joy can never be spoken, above all joys beside,
When in Thy body broken I thus with safety hide.
O Lord of Life, desiring Thy glory now to see,
Beside Thy cross expiring, I’d breathe my soul to Thee.

My Savior, be Thou near me when death is at my door;
Then let Thy presence cheer me, forsake me nevermore!
When soul and body languish, oh, leave me not alone,
But take away mine anguish by virtue of Thine own!

Be Thou my consolation, my shield when I must die;
Remind me of Thy passion when my last hour draws nigh.
Mine eyes shall then behold Thee, upon Thy cross shall dwell,
My heart by faith enfolds Thee. Who dieth thus dies well.

Repost from Plum Panda because it's so freakin' great...

Dinner party for 8*

Bid on a fabulous dinner party for 8!  Enjoy a delicious, homemade meal and great wine at a dinner party in your own home!   

This is a GREAT deal.  What a fun couples night this would be!  And how many times can you honestly say that getting dressed up and drinking some vino will help bring an orphan home?

It should also be noted that Sloan and I make WONDERFUL dinner companions.  Not a requirement, just sayin'... 

*If you want to bid on this item, you must do so on The Plum Panda's page on Facebook.  I'm willing to accept bids via email, but I cannot assume responsibility for you "losing" the auction because I will not be able to keep you in the loop for the auction.  If, however, you aren't a fan of The Plum Panda on Facebook and you desperately want this, a large donation to our adoption fund COULD possibly work.  (You can "like" The Plum Panda on facebook in the little box on your righthand sidebar ------>)

THIS AUCTION WILL CLOSE NEXT SUNDAY AT 8PM.   

Starting with a bid of $80, choose between a pork or chicken entrée, to be served with an appetizer, 2 or 3 side dishes and dessert.  The meal will be delivered to your home in disposable containers.  One bottle of red wine is included. The first wine to be included is a 2000 Stags Leap Cabernet Sauvignon , which retails for about $60 (though in a restaurant it would cost between $100-120). [Cost: $10 / per person]

Starting with a bid of $140, add the additional options of lamb or beef for your entrée and an additional bottle of red wine.  The second wine to be included is the Livingston, which retails for about $95 (though in a restaurant it would cost between $150-$190).  [Cost: about $17 / per person]

Starting with a bid of  $200, your meal will arrive on serving platters.  You will also receive service during the meal and a light clean-up of the meal.

[cost: about $25 / per person]

The highest bid wins!!

Other notes:

·         Menu adjustments can be made at the buyer’s request

·         Date to be mutually agreed upon between buyer and chef

·         Wine options are fixed

·         Contact me with any questions!

 Sample Menus

  

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 Smoked Salmon Dip

Roast Loin of Pork with Fennel, Carrots, & Potatoes

Haricot Verts with Shallots

Homemade Foldover Rolls

Chocolate Ganache Cake

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  

Olive Tapendade with Crostini

Roast Lambs with White Beans

ProvenVal Tomatoes

Mesclun Salad with Mustard Vinagrette

Lemon Meringue Tart

Semi-Open, Part Three.

Before I finish this section of the story (really, this story is ongoing, so it is simply at the end of one chapter), I think I oughtta give you some context.  When I wrote Wednesday’s piece, I edited out the section that reminded you of what I said in part one:  we typically send out birthmother updates around Gracie’s birthday.  Maybe I’m just assuming y’all all remember her birthday is October 22^nd?  

Anywhoozie, to put this on a timeline, we sent the 2 year update to GBM at the end of October and received our first letter from GBM on November 11^th.  Which, ya know, was about 5 days after we realized we were going to adopt again.  

Wha?

Yeah.  That is why we were really confused.  Perhaps we thought we were supposed to adopt from China, but maybe God was just opening up our hearts to be ready for something else, something a little closer to home?  You may remember some cryptic posts from that era, like this one or this one.    

We heard nothing back from GBM.  We set up a special email account for her so that she could communicate with us without going through Bethany if she felt like it.  We tried the numbers she gave us but were never able to connect.   

So we waited.   

While we waited, we began our paperwork for the Chinese adoption.  We mentally gave GBM the deadline of Christmas to make a move.  Because we couldn’t just hover in limbo when we weren’t even certain if any of the information in her letter could be trusted.  We did, however, learn that GTHS was in the custody of the grandmother and not GBM, like she had stated in the letter.  With that knowledge, I was able to breathe in and out again, knowing that GTHS did have an advocate and someone to love her.  I could take down my “Tween Room in the Attic” board on Pinterest.

Christmas came and went.  We continued to pray for the twins.  That they had been placed in a loving family.  That they knew we existed.  That the twins were out of the hospital and healthy.  That if they had no one to advocate for them some case workers would try their hardest to find us and that the Bethany case workers would give them our information.  We learned that at some point in the summer a cryptic phone call had been received that could have possibly been about the twins, but no follow up phone information was left and the case worker at Bethany, wanting to protect our privacy, did not volunteer our information.  Therefore, we told all the case workers at Bethany that they could give out our information to anyone working for the Department of Social Services.  

And then we sort of went about life.  We’ve been fundraising and stressing about finances and getting the boys’ room ready and longing for Charlie.  

Then, about two weeks ago, my orphan care group at church hosted the head of Henrico County’s social services to talk about foster and respite care in the Richmond area.  After his talk, I spoke with him briefly about our situation.  I asked him if we had any rights and if the case workers would be bothered if we called.  He laughed.  He said that while we didn’t have the same rights as a biological family member would, social services ALWAYS wants to keep biological siblings together.  He also told us that twins, much less twins born premature, and even greater still twins born premature born addicted to drugs that were ethnic minorites would be VERY hard to place.   And then he said, “Trust me.  We long for people to call us and say they want to advocate for these kids.  It rarely happens. Of all the stuff we see, being called by someone wanting to love a kid is NOT a bother.”

Hmmm….

But where to even begin?  The town where GBM lives is a suburb of a larger city that is comprised of 5 counties.  And each county has its own DSS.  So I just started googling.  I randomly picked a county and called the first number that mentioned foster care I could find.  

A woman answered and I said, “Hi!  My name is Elizabeth Phillips and I live in Richmond.  So this is strange.  My adoptive daughter was born in Charlottesville and her birthmom lives in your area.  We have reason to believe that last Spring she gave birth to twins prematurely and that they were taken into foster care.  Do these kids have someone to love them?  Are they still alive?  Have they been shuffled back and forth between GBM and some foster family?  I mean, we are right now pursuing a special needs adoption from China, but those kids are our daughter’s half-siblings and if they don’t already have a family, we want them.”

I said all of that before I took a breath.  Or let the other person talk.  

Well, wouldn’t you know that the woman listening to me ramble on was the case worker of the twins.  Her first words to me were, “Are you serious?!  I am so glad you called!  We’ve been wondering about your little girl and where she was.  I am the twins’ case worker and I can tell you all about them.  They’ve been with an amazing foster family since they left the hospital and that family will begin the finalization of their adoption this Spring.  I know they won’t mind me telling you all this because they are so amazing.”

And y’all, the case worker undersold the twins’ family.  They. Are. Rockstars.  The twins will be the youngest kiddos in a large family comprised of biological kids, as well as kids adopted both internationally and domestically.  The case worker told me what the family had named the twins and I thought to myself “OK, these peeps are believers.  You don’t name your kid that if you aren’t a Christian.”

I gave the case worker all of my information to give to their family.  The twins’ family has ZERO background information on GBM or photos so I have begun to compile a little file for them. The adoptive mom of the twins and I have been able to connect via Facebook.  I was right, she loves Jesus and adoption and laughing and, according to the info section on her blog, she also has a penchant for putting her foot in her mouth.  Oh, and did I fail to mention that she and her husband know the pastor of my church because…..wait for it…He was their youth pastor?!?

I cannot tell you how ecstatic I am to know that we now have a safe connection to folks who share Gracie's DNA.  There was a tiny part of me that was miffed that we weren’t able to be found to parent those twins.  I was frustrated with the case worker that didn’t bend the rules to give out my info.  But what is true is that God is sovereign and I am not the right mommy for the twins.  So I need to repent of any bitterness that I may feel about that.  If God had meant for us to parent them, we would’ve.  He intends for us to be family to them, just not immediate family.  I may or may not have already picked out what I will be sending them for their first birthday.  Auntie EJ has a great ring to it.

This whole process has also convicted me of believing that it was all up to me, that if I did nothing, no one would.  I guess I thought that Sloan and I were the only ones out there loving orphans.  That we were the only folks willing to accept hard placements.  That God was putting all of his “Love the Orphans” eggs in my basket.  

Ahem.  (Also, have you met me?  No one at any time for any reason should give me a basket of eggs of any kind.  I can only keep up with my children because they make noise.)

Folks, God doesn’t need me.  It is his love for me that draws me into His heart and mission.  And he’s not about to let my sin or bureaucracy or a dingy orphanage get in the way of Him being close to the broken hearted, of being a Father to the fatherless.  

Just as He fought for Henry when we almost died in the hospital, just as He fought for Gracie as she struggled to come off the drugs, just as He fought for the twins to have a loving family where they would be treasured, He fights for Charlie.  Charlie is not alone in that Chinese orphanage.  He has Jesus beside him.  To whisper to him that he will not leave him as an orphan.

Sweet, and tender Jesus, hold our Charlie tight.  Tell him we are coming.  Place us in his dreams so that we are not strangers.  His bed is ready.  And so are we.